


Easy, Killer

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8760139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: “You’re a werewolf” he said plaintively, and perhaps a bit too excitedly.





	1. Chapter 1

“You smelled your drink before she even called your name” Ian said matter of fact, although he could still hear his heart pounding over the cacophony of coffee shop sounds. Suddenly he was pierced with icy blues that actually made him shiver. When he got nothing, he pressed on.

“You’re a werewolf” he said plaintively, and perhaps a bit too excitedly.

“Would you keep it down?” the man whispered harshly, eyes searching and nostrils flaring on instinct. A woman grabbed a few packs of sugar and smiled.

“It’s not like they don’t know already. I mean, your eyes…” Ian stopped, struck by them again until they focused on something else. The man started to leave, so he followed.

“I know they exist obviously, but I’ve just never actually seen one…” he left out ‘up close’. “Never known one.”

“That you know of.” The man stopped short, pinning him with shear power. Ian felt a calming sort of obedience wash over him as he stayed rooted to the spot watching the man leave. But he soon found his feet moving again and caught up.

“That, back there..was that…were you-”

“Can I help you with something?” he handed him his coffee and he took it without hesitation as the man lit up a cigarette, only realizing when he took the cup back.

“You just did it again” Ian said with amusement, which caught the man off guard for a second. “Sorry. My name’s Ian. I promise I’m not following you because I’m crazy” he ignored the skeptical look he got “…I just find you really fascinating.”

The man looked away and sipped his coffee. “You mean my kind.”

Ian’s eyes went wide. “No! Oh my god, no. Fuck! Sorry. Shit, I can explain better. Let me start over?” he pleaded, taking the fact he didn’t leave or stop him as a good sign. “I’m in school doing an independent study for my last assignment before I graduate, and I saw you and I just…”

“Followed your nose?”

Ian smiled “Yeah.”

“So what, you want to interview me or something? Play 20 questions, find out all my secrets for some fucking paper you probably don’t even need?” the man took a long drag on his cigarette like it was pure oxygen.

“Something like that. Maybe take a few photos…if that’s…cool?” Ian raised his eyebrow. They stood still for a cool minute, letting the city pass them by.

“200” the man finally said, draining his coffee.

Ian was taken aback. “W-what?”

“Per session. I got shit to do, and this ain’t on the top of my list, so I figure might as well get paid, right?”

Ian didn’t know if he was annoyed or exhilarated by the small hint of force he felt in his chest. He wondered how often the guy actually used this and decided that would be one of his questions.

“120” he said.

“150” the man countered, although the push wasn’t as strong this time.

“I’m a student, man, c'mon” Ian bargained. He would not feel like a puny human.

“130. Final. Are you gonna let me get on the train now?”

“Yeah. Here, gimme your phone” Ian held his hand out.

“You give me your phone” the guy said without missing a beat. The familiar safe inkling of appeasement crept up Ian’s neck as he handed over his phone. He watched as the guy put his number in and hand it back.

“'lone wolf?” Ian laughed, staring at the new contact.

“You got a problem? Because I could report you to the WPL for harassment if you-”

“Easy, killer” Ian held his hands up, trying to hide his smile at the man’s visible irritation. He could practically see his haunches bristle. “The WPL? What is that?” The man didn’t answer and Ian didn’t press, but not on his own.

“Alright, let’s get one rule straight here, okay?” the man cocked his eyebrow and bit his lip, almost rendering him speechless. “Chill with the alpha wolf thing during sessions.”

The man swiped a thumb at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to hide a grin. He looked away and back at him a couple times.

“Deal.”

Ian nodded, holding his hand out, but the werewolf turned and disappeared towards the tunnel leading to the trains.


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey climbed the three flights of stairs that would take him to the apartment of the guy- Ian- who was so bold as to ruin his day yesterday. Although, he surprised himself when he hadn’t just deleted the first text he got and pretended none of it ever happened. Because that was what people did after their one night experiment. They went on with their lives until it came up for cool points.

He stopped outside the door with the number 3 and letter C on it. This place was shitty. He knocked.

“Just a minute” Ian’s voice called from inside. It sounded closer than it would if there were multiple rooms. When he finally opened the door, Mickey peered into a carpeted, dimly lit studio. He couldn’t imagine any sort of hipster arty work getting done here.

“Come on in” Ian smiled. He wore jeans and a tshirt, no shoes just socks. He closed the door behind them and moved over to the kitchen where he took a piping hot plate of spaghetti from the microwave. “Leftovers. Want some?”

“Nah. Just ate a raw steak. I’m stuffed” Mickey patted his stomach and waited for Ian to get he was fucking with him. “So, we gonna do this or not? I got places to be”

“Like where?” Ian grabbed two beers and directed them over to the pullout couch.

Before Mickey even thought about it, he felt himself willing the task back on track. Ian looked at him and handed him a beer.

“Sorry. No alpha wolf. Got it.”

Ian cracked open his beer and took a few swigs. “Actually, I was going to ask you about that, if you don’t mind.” He grabbed his notepad and pencil, shuffling some printouts and books around, then hit record on his phone.

“If I minded, I wouldn’t be here.”

Ian nodded. “Good. This is just for my own use, so you can relax.”

Mickey’s ears perked. He was nervous, but he never showed it. He’d taught himself better. Was it possible this guy could…sense other things about him? He finally opened his beer and drank til it was half empty.

“So what do you want to know?”

Ian shifted, looking down at his notes. When he looked up, Mickey hadn’t expected their eyes to lock. Ian’s were green to go along with his red hair and freckles, but it was a washed out sort of green. It reminded Mickey of tide pools on a cloudy day. They were vastly different from the strikingly vibrant blue that branded all nonhumans.

“For the record, what’s your name and age?”

Mickey swallowed, licking his lips. “Mickey. 29.”

Ian’s eyebrows went up. “You look younger.”

Mickey shrugged. “Perks.”

Ian nodded and wrote something down. “I’m 25” he added before taking a bite of spaghetti and washing it down.

Mickey sat in a chair across from Ian that looked like it’d seen days that weren’t necessarily better. He could pick up faint jazz music playing from an iPod doc on the floor in the corner.

“You like jazz?” Mickey asked, catching himself off guard.

Ian shrugged, stopping the recording.

“Sorry” Mickey muttered.

Ian grinned. “It’s fine. Not particularly. It’s just better sometimes…for me.”

And Mickey didn’t feel himself push for more. After all this was about him. He waited til Ian hit the button again.

“I’ve got a whole Disturbed playlist for when I’m feeling…wolfy” he said playfully, getting him a snort from Ian.

“We’ll listen to it next time.” Ian seemed preoccupied, staring down at his notes and papers. He seemed stuck for words. Mickey waited for him to get unstuck.

“How come you let me catch up to you that day?”

Mickey felt beer run down the wrong pipe and made his eyes almost water trying to suppress his choking. “Mh?” he managed.

“I was rooted, man. I would’ve stayed there if you hadn’t-”

“Hadn’t what? Let you move freely of your own choice?”

“But I read-”

“Forget what you read, okay? We can’t make anybody do anything indefinitely. They’d have never let us walk around freely if we could.”

Ian took that in for a moment. His face screwing up, trying to piece together what he found and what he was being told.

“Look, everybody’s different, right? Some people are just more susceptible than others. That’s it.” Mickey thought that might help clear some of the questions he knew wanted to burst out of Ian.

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

Ian sighed, taking a different approach.

“Can you tell who’s easy and who’s not?”

Mickey laughed “If I could do that, I’d be getting laid a lot more.” Ian actually rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah sure, I can tell. But only after I try something. Little stuff.”

Ian thought about that, his expression changing from confusion to realization. “How often do you do it? What’s it like?”

Mickey finished his beer, buying himself some time. Why should he give away everything the first time? What fun would that be?

“It’s like flexing a muscle. Sometimes you just do it, no thinking. Natural instinct. Other times, you do it on purpose. It takes a lot of skill.”

“So it’s defensive” Ian said more to himself. “You must have thought I was a threat” he grinned smugly.

Mickey scoffed. “You wish.”

Ian scribbled some more and checked his watch. “It’s been an hour. Wanna stop for today?” Mickey nodded. “Cool.” he stopped recording.

They stood, stretching their limbs. Ian was tall, taller than him by at least a foot. His arms and legs were long, but his torso and chest seemed bulkier. The pull-up bar in the bathroom door was the likely culprit. Ian took his plate and the two empty bottles to the kitchen, then grabbed something off the fridge. “Here. 130, all there.”

Mickey bit his lip as he took it and shoved it in his pocket. “Thanks. Was it…was that okay?”

Ian smiled, leaning against the small counter which made him look like a giant. “Yeah. It should go a little smoother once we get into it.” Ian must have seen the guilty look on his face, or sensed it. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to go there. “But I’m really excited.” he reached out and touched Mickey’s arm briefly, sending heat through the whole thing.

A moment passed through their eyes and Mickey felt himself speaking.

“You caught up to me because you wanted to, but I also wasn’t stopping you.”

Rather than say anything that might trash the gesture of that slip of honesty, Ian nodded and lead him to the door.

Mickey stepped into the hall feeling jittery. He needed a cigarette. This had been a bad idea.


	3. Chapter 3

“Werewolves make up about 4% of the population. That’s even less than the percent of gay people and people with bipolar disorder. Do you know how rare that is?”

Mickey stared at him for a moment, the steam from his coffee rising in front of his face. Ian let his excitement deflate and cleared his throat, turning his attention back to his book.

“How long have you been studying this stuff?” Mickey asked, fiddling with a napkin.

“Mmm, since high school? Yeah. Just always was drawn to it.”

Mickey nodded while he gulped hot, black coffee. “Would you say you’re pretty good?”

“I’ve done internships at museums and labs. Took a bunch of classes. Feels like I’ve read every book that’s ever been written” Ian laughed nervously. He shoved a bit of scone in his mouth and chewed. “But I wouldn’t say I’m an expert yet. Why?”

Mickey locked his eyes on him, a slight smile playing at his lips. It had been his idea to meet back at the coffee shop and Ian had jumped at the chance considering he hadn’t heard from Mickey in days. He had started to think he’d lost him, but somehow he just knew he hadn’t. Now he was staring at him across a too small table near the window while rain came down outside.

“The barista. The girl with the ponytail” Mickey said from behind his cup.

It took Ian a minute. He looked at this young girl, hair slightly frizzy from steam. She looked ordinary enough, but the way the man seemed to sniff the air in her direction made him look closer. Only, he still didn’t know what he was looking for.

“What, her? She’s a..” he looked again, trying to maybe see what Mickey saw. She rubbed at one of her eyes and blinked, wrinkling her nose at the irritation. “Contacts?” Mickey nodded and turned his attention out the window. “Why?”

“The hell should I know? Why does anyone hide anything about themselves?”

Ian stared at the side of Mickey’s face, taking him in. He thought about what had drawn him to talk to him when he’d completely missed the girl taking his order. He felt pulled, like a little imaginary hook had attached itself to his chest and was reeling him in. Only then had he noticed the flaring of his nose, those blue eyes. They reminded him of a kind of blue you only saw in pictures from the Hubble telescope. He looked at them now and they seemed dimmer, less vibrant. He wondered if it was just the dreary day reflecting in them and then he looked down at his scone like it needed another bite taken from it.

“I thought we had a deal” he said slowly.

“I wasn’t aware this was a session” Mickey said, opening the lid of his coffee to finish the dregs at the bottom.

“I wasn’t aware it wasn’t.”

Mickey’s nostrils flared and heat filled his face. He gripped the table, leaving nail marks in the polished wood. He seemed to take several breaths before he was able to say something.

“I thought I didn’t want to do this, but I changed my mind” he said, then shrugged “…I can be..really difficult sometimes, so I didn’t want you to think I’d bailed or–”

“No” Ian said putting a hand on Mickey’s until he released the table. Then he pulled back quickly like he’d been shocked or burned. “I’m glad you called, actually. I rented a camera.”

“For my closeup exposé?” the corner of his mouth twitched a little and Ian couldn’t help but smile fully.

“Yeah. I’ll get your good side” Ian wiggled his eyebrows and stuffed the rest of his scone in his mouth.

“I don’t have one…” Mickey stood and tossed his trash, and Ian followed suit.

Once outside under the awning, Mickey lit up and offered the cigarette to Ian. He took it and blew smoke out his nose.

“Thanks” he handed it back and hoped his face wasn’t too red from the way those eyes had watched him. “I better get going. Class in thirty.”

Mickey nodded, holding the cigarette between his lips while he pulled his hood up. Ian held his hand out and was surprised when Mickey took it, although it was too warm to last.

“Bye, Mickey” Ian turned and walked away, not sure if he imagined the pulling sensation at his back.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hello?” Mickey answered the phone with anger in his voice, although he regretted it immediately. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking at the redness he saw at the edges. His body was sore and he felt like he was having a fever in a desert.

“I’m sorry… I woke you. Fuck..”

The voice on the other end sounded weak and wet. It was raspy and quiet.

“S'fine” speaking of voices, Mickey’s was deeper. He could feel the vibrations of power in every word he spoke. “What’s going on?”

There was silence for a while, and Mickey looked at the screen of his phone to make sure the call didn’t drop. “You there?” he caught himself pushing a little.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can’t…meet up today” Ian admitted tiredly. He sounded like he either slept too much or not at all.

“Why?” Mickey asked, although he wasn’t sure why he didn’t just say okay and go on with his day. He got up and went into the bathroom, examining his state as he took a piss.

“I..need some…time to–”

“Ian?” Mickey couldn’t remember ever saying his name before. It sounded weird, but he wasn’t as surprised at saying it as he was about what it felt like. And he couldn’t remember saying anything with that much authority behind it. Not since he lived at home.

He hoped he hadn’t scared him or pissed him off. He ruffled his hair in the mirror and looked at his teeth, testing his tongue on them and tasting blood almost instantly. All the while, he still felt himself pulsing inside, stretching and testing how far he could go without actually barking. He felt like he wanted to growl, though. He swallowed a few times.

“I have bipolar disorder” Ian blurted out, as if it’d been hit out of him. He sighed heavily then sucked in deeply. He was smoking. It made Mickey reach for his own pack.

He lit up and headed to his fire escape, stopping to pull on some boxers at least. He could really use a coffee, maybe some food too, but he wanted to wait. A spark lit up at the back of his brain.

“And what helps?” this time with less gusto. He was trying to find a balance, something he’d been doing since the beginning. Mickey wasn’t exactly sure if Ian was in the right mind to tap into the dampening of his reluctance, like he usually seemed to do.

“Jazz” Ian almost sounded like he smiled, but it had faded quickly to a crack in his throat due to crying. “And outside”

“You’ve been locked up” Mickey said plainly, knowing all too well.

Ian sniffed and cleared his throat. “Don’t like it.”

“Me neither” and as if he himself had been coaxed, he added “I need to go away” hoping that would be enough of a question and answer.

He could hear Ian thinking on the other end, puffing on his cigarette to the sound of soft, unhelpful bass and piano. He held his own cigarette in his hand and closed his fist around it tightly, feeling cool heat and grit, but not pain.

“I’ll bring my camera” Ian said with a slight lift in his voice.

“I’ll pick you up”

“When?”

Mickey opened his fist and watched the ashes drift across his lap. He had no clue if this was a good idea or not, but he felt a rumbling vibration inside him like a roar.

“Tonight.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Thanks” Ian said quietly from the passenger seat. They’d been driving for a while and he could see the cityscape and lights from the side mirror. He looked over at Mickey who was white knuckling the wheel and staring straight ahead with dark eyes. Even with the occasional flash of light from a streetlamp or oncoming car, they were an ominous black. He was sweating a lot.

“Where are we going?” he tried, but the man next to him clamped his jaw so hard he could hear crunching. He reached for his soda, which was a huge mistake because Mickey turned his head lightening fast and growled low in his throat. His teeth glinted with saliva. Ian backed himself to the door as far as he could, eyes wide and hands up. He could feel his heart threatening to pump out of his chest. The sound had both scared and comforted him.

“I’m sorry” Mickey finally spoke. His voice was so deep and gravely, Ian had almost mistook it for more growling. It rumbled through him, right to his core. To his groin.

Mickey’s nose flared and he immediately looked back to the road, sitting up in his seat and laying into the gas.

“It’s tonight” Ian said, slowly unplastering himself from the window.

“I usually leave sooner” Mickey was trying really hard to make his voice sound normal, which was making him angrier so his words came out with a bite. He glanced over at Ian and rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck obscenely. “We’ll be there soon.”

Ian took that to mean he should be quiet and still for the rest of the ride, which he had no problem with, but he felt himself wanting to go to sleep. He looked over at Mickey, who wouldn’t even dare look back.

“We’re here.”

Ian jolted awake, blinking in confusion and looking around. He didn’t feel very rested because he hadn’t been tired, he knew that much. A shadow appeared at his window and he jumped when the door was pulled open.

“Come on”

Ian grabbed his bag and got out, following the slightly bigger figure in front of him up a wooded path. They came to a part where the tress cleared some, and there was a small cabin tucked away behind some brush. Mickey opened the door and went inside. Ian looked around but only saw trees. The moonlight barely broke through. He stepped into the cabin and closed the door behind him. His eyes took their time adjusting and he wondered how big the room actually was. Everything felt close and stifled.

“Mick–” he started to call out, but felt something close to him. Then it was right in front of him, solid heat backing him into the door. He tried to control his breathing, but found it was already calming itself. A pair of onyx eyes stared at him, unblinking as hot breath blew into his face and neck. He could hear sniffing. He swallowed and moved his head to the side.

Then a click and he was blinded for a second. When his retinas cleared, he looked around. Mickey was to the side of him, finger still on the light switch. He breathed.

Mickey hung the car keys on a hook, looking at Ian so he understood.

“I-I’m not leaving” he found his voice, but Mickey just looked down then reached for the door. Ian stepped aside quickly, noticing his fingers and nails.

Mickey looked at him one last time before taking off at a run into the trees.

Ian closed the door, but didn’t lock it. He looked around at where he’d be staying for the next week. There was a small kitchen with a gas stove, an old refrigerator and a wooden table with two chairs at either end. A bookshelf lined the other side where a bed was pushed into the corner by the wall. There were pillows and blankets stacked on top that looked comfortable enough. There were rugs and a few lamps. He looked into a small bathroom with a shower. It was a pretty nice place, but he wondered how and who else knew about Mickey.

He wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t tired. It was late but not yet midnight. He went over to the shelf and looked at some of the books, grabbing a few older looking ones about werewolves. He didn’t think Mickey would be that ironic, so he figured they belonged to whomever owned the place. Someone just as eager to get in touch with that unknown world. But maybe someone not as crazy as he was. He sat down on the bed and lie back, staring up at the light and wondering what exactly he was doing there. All of this for a paper? Mickey was right when he’d said he didn’t need it. His degree was practically signed already. So really, this was personal.

He didn’t know when he’d dozed off, but he was woken suddenly by a long howl in the distance.


End file.
